What Stockings Are Good For
by Queen of the Castle
Summary: Ten/Rose. The Doctor stopped dead with his hand on one of the levers, gaping at her. Rose followed his gaze to where her dress had ridden up the outside of her thigh to just above the lace band of the stockings.


Rose could practically hear the Doctor's sigh from where she was rifling around inside the wardrobe room.

"_Rose_," he called. His voice was drawn out into what she would have called a whine, if it wouldn't have resulted in him subjecting her to an hour-long rant about how Time Lords didn't 'whine', ever. "We're going to miss it!"

The best part of him dragging her off to some potentially stuffy theatre performance was being able to get dressed up for it. He could just think again if he believed for a moment she'd let him take that away from her.

"We're in a time ship," Rose called back. "If we're late, I'm pretty sure it's gonna be more about your driving than the extra minute it takes me to track down some stockings."

"But what do you even _need_ them for? Do you know how many useless articles of clothing I've come across throughout all of time and space? Lots, that's how many. So you should know that when I say that stockings are the _most_ useless of all of them, that's really saying something. They don't cover you up. They don't keep you warm. If you went out wearing just stockings with nothing covering them, you'd be arrested. Well, you'd be arrested more quickly than usual, anyway. As far as I can tell, all they're for is catching on every little thing that comes anywhere near them. And also, of course, for making it take an unnecessarily long time to get dressed, meaning we'll be _late for the show_."

Rose brandished the two sheer pieces of black silk she'd been searching for in quiet triumph. "They're good for a lot more than that," she said, sliding the material over her foot. "You just haven't had a good experience yet."

She heard the Doctor splutter as she slid the second one on. "_I'm_ not about to put them on! Ever!" Rose giggled to herself, but let him continue on his babble. "Or, well, not in this lifetime, anyway," he added. "I can't really say for sure what odd quirks my future incarnations might have. There was this scarf once, and this radioactive-looking coat... but still! That's not the point. The point is... what was the point, again?"

"That you aren't gonna wear stockings," Rose prompted, stepping into her right boot. "I'm gonna have to agree with you, actually. That'd be a terrible idea, with the amount of leg hair you have."

"It's manly!" he defended vehemently.

"Yep," Rose agreed teasingly, smoothing out her dress slightly with her hands. "Way too manly for stockings, definitely. Anyways, I wasn't talking about _you_ wearing them. It's just, sometimes guys like it when girls wear them when... you know."

There was a long pause.

"No, actually, I really don't know," the Doctor admitted. "You always go all cryptic when –"

When Rose strolled out of the Wardrobe Room, the Doctor simultaneously closed his mouth and snapped shut the odd 'dimensionally transcendent' pocket watch he'd been waving at her earlier when he'd first started complaining that they'd be late.

"Hi," he said after a few moments, an oddly drunken sort of smile drifting across his features as he took in the sight of her.

"Hey." She took a few steps forward and held out her elbow for him to take. He didn't seem to notice the gesture, since he was too busy looking at non-arm-related parts of her. "So, ready?"

"Ready?" the Doctor repeated. "Um, yes, well, I'm always ready, aren't I? For anything. One hundred percent prepared, that's me! Only... what exactly should I be ready for right at this moment?"

Rose rolled her eyes fondly. "For the show." He pried his eyes up from where he was distractedly eyeing her hips to frown at her, confused. Honestly, she thought. He had an enormous Time Lord brain that could (as he'd informed her the last time she'd laughed at him) retain twenty-nine unrelated trains of thought at a time. Yet somehow the sight of her in a short, tight black dress knocked all twenty-nine thoughts into nothingness. "The show you've been so desperate to get to that you couldn't wait for me to get properly dressed," she reminded him. "56th century, West Prague. Ringing any bells?"

He grinned, his brain switching back on track. "The show! Yes! _The Fallen Angel_. No theatrical performance by a humanoid species will ever top the opening night of that show. Just as well that I just happened to pick up two handy tickets a few decades ago, eh? Even better that we've got the TARDIS to translate it, of course, since it's performed in New Frenglish, and even the native speakers have difficulty figuring _that_ out."

"New what-now?" Rose asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, just a post-generalistic-period blending of highly-geographically-specialised dialects which only have an ideal melding property of about forty-three percent."

Rose laughed. "Oh, of course. That. Should've known."

The Doctor suddenly grabbed her hand and took off towards the console room without another word. Rose, finally getting used to the random behaviour he'd tended to display since the regeneration, very nearly managed to keep up with his long strides.

When they arrived in the console room, Rose sat down on the captain's seat, aware that there was no way she would be able to stay upright with the Doctor's driving skills and in those shoes. Normally she wouldn't mind so much, but (barring an alien invasion, of course) there was no chance she was going to ruin this dress if she could help it. Not after having seen his reaction to it.

The Doctor stopped dead with his hand on one of the levers, gaping at her. Rose followed his gaze to where her dress had ridden up the outside of her thigh to just above the lace band of the stockings.

"What?" she asked, pushing the hem of her dress down a little. The way he looked at her, transfixed, made her suddenly feel oddly self-conscious about it. He'd seen (and touched and tasted) far more of her than just her upper thigh, but it was still all a bit new between them. Open stares of admiration she could handle (and enjoy), but his expression at that moment was a little more what-the-hell-is-_that_-ish than she felt comfortable having directed at any part of her naked body.

"Stockings," the Doctor said. "I, er... they stop. At your leg. Instead of... which means..."

Rose smiled, gaining back some confidence from the fact that his apparent shock at the sight seemed to be very much the positive kind. "Yep. They come in all sorts these days. Very useful. I might show you later. Just so you understand what stockings are good for, of course."

"Oh," the Doctor said. Flustered, he turned away to throw the TARDIS into motion.

Rose could tell his concentration wasn't quite focused on the job at hand. She allowed herself a tiny smile, acknowledging how much she enjoyed seeing him act like such a _man_, sometimes.

She gripped the chair-back she was leaning against when the TARDIS landed, while the Doctor was nearly flung down on the grating.

Rose got up and to the TARDIS door more quickly than the Doctor, for once. She liked being the first one to step out into a new time and place (except when there were people-eating plants waiting outside the door, just for instance; then he could definitely go first).

"Hang on," the Doctor said. "What if – not that we will, mind, because I'm a frankly brilliant driver and I've obviously landed us in the exact location I was aiming for, which is eminently safe – but what if some sort of trouble finds us? Can you actually run in that?"

Rose looked down at herself. "Sure. All of my outfits are run-for-your-life-friendly, these days. I'd just hike the dress up."

She favoured him with a broad grin before practically skipping out the door.

"Hike up..." she heard him breathe. "Oh. Kay."

"So what about this show?" she asked, stepping outside the TARDIS and looking around the bustling street. She heard the Doctor's footsteps following after her as soon as the TARDIS door squeaked shut. "What's it about, exactly?"

He didn't answer, obviously not having heard the question.

Though she didn't turn around to check, Rose got the distinct impression that the Doctor was too busy staring at her bum to hear anything she was saying.

Well, she doubted he'd be complaining again any time soon that the few extra minutes she spent getting dressed weren't worthwhile.

~FIN~


End file.
